


Serving the Kingdom

by EllianaDunla



Series: Unseen Keepers of the Secret [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllianaDunla/pseuds/EllianaDunla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things about Camelot that George doesn't quite understand. All he knows is that the world just doesn't make sense anymore. Two chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Something was wrong, George decided. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something here that set his teeth on edge and made him wonder what on earth he had done wrong. Of course, it was his first day here, as manservant to King Arthur, the dream job of every servant. Yet why kept people staring at him as if he were an anomaly?

Well, none of that mattered, really, did it? He had the job now and he was determined to hold on to it. Manservant to the king was a position that paid relatively well, but mostly it was about the honour of serving the king, an honour George was well aware of. King Arthur was well liked and a good ruler for his people, but George understood the need for such a king to have a good servant. Otherwise how could he function well?

To that end he had woken long before the crack of dawn to start his chores. This was not the first noble he had been tasked with looking after, so he knew his list of duties was quite extensive. He didn’t really mind that; he liked to keep busy. And so he started in the armoury, only to find that he was not the first one to be there. Someone who looked remarkably like a knight was putting on his own armour, maybe to get in a bit of early training. He stared at George as if he had seen a ghost.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘And what are you doing here?’

‘I am George, sir,’ he responded. ‘The king’s new manservant.’ He didn’t really know what happened to the old one. He didn’t even know the old one’s name. There was some rumour that he had been killed by bandits though. George shivered at the thought of such a violent and messy death. ‘I am here to polish the king’s armour.’

For a moment it looked like the knight was too confused to say anything, but then he settled for a still confused ‘This early?’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind.’

He was out before George could bid him a good day, in spite of his own confusion. The first lesson a servant learned was that he had always to be polite and never be anything but polite. So that was what he was. Outwardly he smiled, nodded and bowed, but inwardly he wondered what this strange exchange had meant. Had his predecessor perhaps polished the king’s armour at night, before the king went to sleep, so that it was all ready in the morning and he could muck out the stables at this time? He felt a sudden increase in nerves. What if he was doing this all wrong?

No, he wasn’t doing this wrong. He was just doing things differently. But that surely didn’t matter as long as the work was done properly? It was well known that every servant worked differently. People had to get used to him, that was all. Maybe they even resented him a little for taking the place of the king’s previous servant, since he had been killed by bandits. That would only be natural, after all, especially if that manservant had been well liked.

He pondered all this as he polished the king’s armour and sharpened his sword, and it calmed his nerves considerably. By the time he had entered the kitchen to collect the king’s breakfast, though, he found himself being stared at again.

‘Who are you?’ a young woman, presumably a kitchen maid, asked of him.

‘I am George,’ he introduced himself. ‘The king’s new manservant.’

The maid’s face fell. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m Sarah.’ She bit her lip. ‘I still don’t know what you’re doing here.’

George would have thought that would be obvious. ‘I am here to fetch the king’s breakfast.’

Her eyebrows were up at her hairline. ‘ _This_ early? Dawn’s hardly breaking!’

Now it was his turn to look confused; it seemed to be all he was really doing this morning. ‘I was instructed that the king was to be woken at dawn,’ he informed Sarah. ‘Isn’t that right?’

She seemed to be thinking very hard. ‘Well, yes. Officially.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘But I don’t think Merlin was ever in this early, unless the king was going away. He’s not going anywhere today, is he?’

‘I wouldn’t know, Miss Sarah,’ George said. ‘It is not my place to ask about the king’s schedule.’

‘I am quite certain that Merlin practically managed his schedule,’ Sarah said.

‘Of course he did,’ one of the nearby kitchen maids chimed in. ‘Without Merlin he wouldn’t get anything done at all, never mind getting things done in time.’

George had worked in a noble household before today, and he prided himself in knowing how they were run, but it seemed that the royal palace of Camelot was something else entirely. His predecessor, Merlin, apparently slacked in the duties a manservant must do, acting as something of a personal secretary for the king instead. That was something he had not been told when he had been hired. The nerves returned.

Sarah shot him a sympathetic smile when she saw the look on his face. ‘Never you mind,’ she said kindly, patting his arm affectionately. ‘You’ll learn how things are done here soon enough. Everyone does, eventually.’

Her colleague didn’t seem to share her optimism. ‘He won’t be here that long,’ she said dismissively. ‘Merlin will be back before we know it.’

George felt forced to speak up. ‘They say that he is dead.’

‘Aye, they do,’ the girl agreed. ‘But they haven’t found any body now, have they? Just a bloodied piece of his jacket and that doesn’t mean anything. He could be hiding out there somewhere.’ She caught Sarah’s warning look, and added: ‘Oh, please, don’t tell me _you_ bought all that crap about Merlin being dead.’

Sarah looked doubtful. ‘Well, Lord Agravaine was pretty positive about it.’

‘And you know what our boss says about Lord Agravaine,’ the kitchen maid said, jerking her head in the direction of a woman George believed to be the head cook. ‘Something is wrong about him. Seriously, when has anyone dressed in dark colours done any good to Camelot?’

‘The king trusts him,’ Sarah objected.

‘And Merlin doesn’t,’ was the reply. She turned to George. ‘I’ll give it a week, at most, before he’s back. In the meantime you can handle the king as you see fit, I suppose.’

This conversation was getting weirder by the second. ‘A servant doesn’t “handle” the king,’ he said, not quite liking that tone of voice she directed at him. It was almost as if she knew something he didn’t, and meant to keep it that way.

The kitchen maid shook her head. ‘You won’t even last a week,’ she predicted. ‘Not at this rate, anyway. Sarah, can’t you just put the poor bloke out of his misery and tell him already? He’s completely clueless.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘He’d keel over dead if we did, Elen. We’d best let him work it out for himself. Besides, the boss would have my head if I told him and he’d blab it to the king. She might have yours if you don’t get back to work now; you know what she’s like.’ She turned to George. ‘Let’s you and I find the king’s breakfast and then I’ll show you where the king’s bedchamber is.’

George bestowed his most grateful smile on her. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Maybe you could help me carry it, too?’ Maybe that was a bit forward of him, but he was the king’s manservant; he could at least get some help with some of the more difficult tasks. If he didn’t, he would still be here by mid-morning and that, he thought, might seriously damage his career prospects in the royal household.

Sarah was looking at him as if he had grown a second head. ‘Help you carry it?’ she echoed. ‘Just how much do you think you need?’

 _A lot_. That was the only appropriate answer. Kings needed a lot of energy and to that end they needed a lot of food. And anyway, kings needed to get the best of everything. King Arthur Pendragon was surely not an exception to that rule.

By the time he had selected what he believed his new employer would need, Sarah had called over two more serving boys to help him carry the load. Elen was watching the whole scene with an amused twinkle in her eyes. ‘Is there a feast that no one has seen fit to tell me about? You could feed the entire royal household with what you’re taking.’

‘You’d better be right about that week,’ Sarah muttered. George suspected that he was not meant to hear that.

Something was wrong, he observed again as Sarah led the way to the king’s bedchamber. Everyone seemed to think he was doing things that were completely unnatural and extraordinary. But it wasn’t, was it? He had been told what his duties were when he had been hired and so far he was doing exactly that. Okay, maybe he was running a little late. He had expected that the kitchen staff would already have prepared the king’s breakfast when he came in. Instead he had found himself stared at like he had lost his mind by the head cook, a rather impressive woman named Mary. ‘Do you think we haven’t got anything better to do?’ she had demanded. ‘We have an entire castle to feed, boy, not just the king.’ When George in turn pointed out that the king was the most important person in aforementioned castle, she had merely shook her head. ‘You’re one of those, aren’t you?’ she asked wearily. ‘You’ve got a long way to go yet, mark my words.’

Sarah pushed open the door and pointed out the table from which the king ate his breakfast. ‘That one,’ she said. ‘The one next to the bed. Just make sure you clear it off when he’s done; he likes to use it as a desk, since it’s so close to the window.’

George raised an eyebrow. ‘Shouldn’t we lower our voices? We won’t want to wake him.’ He gave the good example himself.

Sarah shook her head. ‘Don’t bother. He sleeps like the dead.’

‘That’s disrespectful,’ George said. Something about the way she said it was terribly wrong. One didn’t talk about a king like that.

Sarah merely shrugged. ‘I really hope you’ll learn soon how things are done here. You look like you need it.’

With that last encouragement she left him to his duties and beckoned for the serving boys to follow her out. The latter weren’t looking happy. It was almost as if he had done something wrong, but he didn’t understand what that could be. Wasn’t he doing everything a servant should do? Sarah didn’t seem to think he was. Elen and she had carried on and on about how he didn’t understand how things were done here, and the longer he was in the castle, the more he began to feel like he was indeed missing the point somewhere. He wondered about that while he selected the king’s clothes for the day. No, he concluded in the end, it was not him that was in the wrong here. For some reason these people were acting strange. For them, slacking in their duties had become commonplace. He was one of the few – possibly even the only one – who behaved as he should. Well, that was a reassurance, he had to admit. The king might be pleased to finally have a servant who did as he should, no disrespect meant to his predecessor of course. He might even raise the standard of the whole castle.

He gave the room a final glance. He had cleared up some of the mess that had been left behind, laid out the king’s clothes and arranged the breakfast in a presentable manner. The bedchamber needed a thorough cleaning as well, but that would have to wait till the king was out. That was as it should.

He had just positioned himself at the end of the bed when King Arthur began to stir. He stretched his muscles and opened his eyes, staring straight at George, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. For some reason that seemed to be the first thing everyone asked him.

But George had been well-trained and his professional mask was never even in danger of slipping. ‘I am your new manservant, sire,’ he announced with a happy smile. ‘I have polished your armour, sharpened your sword, selected your clothes – there’s a slight chill in the air today, sir – and now, if you would allow me, I would like to serve you breakfast.’ There, that was exactly right. He had told the king what he had done already – gently reminding him that he, unlike the rest of the castle staff, could do what he was actually paid to do – worked in a bit of small talk about the weather – manservants were close to the people they served, giving him some liberty to do that – and had offered to serve him his breakfast, as he should. Yes, he quite liked the sound of this.

Only, it seemed that his opinion was not shared. By the end of George’s speech the king was blinking in what appeared to be bewilderment. He was practically staring at the breakfast table. Well, he would do that of course; he’d never been so well looked after before, going by what George had seen and heard today.

‘What’s your name?’ the king asked as George walked over to fetch the king a napkin and cutlery.

‘George, sire,’ he answered. ‘At your service.’

The king was working himself into a sitting position. ‘Listen, George, this is all very impressive. Very impressive indeed,’ he added as George put a number of pillows behind his back as to help him sit more comfortably. Look, this was the kind of praise he had secretly been hoping for. Not that a servant should be expecting praise for merely doing what he ought to be doing, strictly speaking. But praise was a kind of reward in and out of itself and he felt himself glowing with pride.

‘Thank you, sire,’ he said.

Only then it became apparent that King Arthur was not quite finished though. There still was a _but_. ‘But I already have a manservant. He’s shabby looking, he has appalling manners, he’s extremely forgetful and he seems to spend most of his time in the tavern…’

It was as he had feared then. All his suspicions about this Merlin had been confirmed, and then some. Well, the king was about to find out that not all servants were as ill-mannered and forgetful. Briefly he noted that the king didn’t seem to think that Merlin was dead, despite the evidence. Something about that did not sit well with him. He kept himself busy preparing the king’s breakfast for consumption, but something about this speech did not sound right, not at all.

That suspicion was confirmed too, right away. ‘But he is my manservant,’ the king said. He gave George back the goblet and the fork and then literally flung the napkin in his face. ‘And to be honest, I quite like it that way.’

As the king stalked out of the room, leaving his new manservant standing where he stood, cutlery and all, one thought registered very clear in his mind. This was the day the world stopped making sense. The kitchen personnel, he understood to a certain extent. They were never among the most intelligent staff, which was why they never got out of the kitchen until the day they either died or retired. But that the king would choose a servant who was, in his own words, “shabby looking and forgetful” and who was a drunk on top of that, that was something George could not for the life of him understand.

His world had been turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor George is a little clueless, isn't he? Don't worry, he will have the ways of Camelot explained to him next chapter.
> 
> I've been meaning to write this little story for quite some time and I suppose it fits in with Guarding the Secret and Kitchen Tales, although this can probably stand alone. The only think you need to know is that the servants practically all know about Merlin and his magic.
> 
> I'll try to put the next chapter up as soon as possible. Please review?


	2. Chapter 2

In the days that followed it started looking like Elen’s prediction of him not lasting a week was coming true. King Arthur dismissed him at the end of the first day, having found his own manservant again, leaving George as just another servant in the large royal household. To him, it felt like a failure. He had done everything in his power to make sure that everything was done as it should be done, but it was like he was fighting against the tide. It was apparently not given to him to do his duties in a manner that was satisfactory to the king. Whatever he did, he was met with the commentary that Merlin did it differently.

When he had drawn the bath: ‘It’s not cold and it’s not boiling hot. What have you done with it?’

When he had helped to dress the king: ‘There are no holes in my shirt. How come?’

When he had eventually been allowed to serve breakfast: ‘Why isn’t there any bread? What am I supposed to do with all this fruit?’

When King Arthur went through his correspondence: ‘Have you written my speech yet?’

When he had thoroughly cleaned the room: ‘This doesn’t even look like my room anymore.’

When he had been asked to help the king into his armour: ‘It’s actually _polished_!?’

At his wit’s end he had tried to crack a joke. Evidently the king had not liked it, since he had sighed in what appeared to be exasperation and then he had left, muttering something about how George was the dullest servant he had ever met. George didn’t understand. Dull was good. Nobles expected their servants to be dull, but reliable. Nobles expected their baths to be warm, expected their clothes to be whole, expected their breakfast to be healthy, expected their servants to keep out of their private business – never mind writing their speeches – expected their rooms to be neat and tidy and had every right to expect that their armour was properly polished.

He supposed that it was the joke that had cost him his job, but clearly not for the reason he had expected. Apparently he was just too dull for the king’s taste. It had nothing to do with the impertinence of telling a joke. It had been one of his best too, about brass. He’d heard it in the household of one of the nobles he had served before he came here. The king’s sense of humour must be different.

He quickly found out that Elen at least had been right about one other thing as well: Merlin was still alive. Over the next couple of days he saw the servant running through corridors, before disappearing for a whole two days. _He seems to spend most of his time in the tavern_ , the king had said. That at least was true, George supposed. He himself never frequented the kind of establishment that served ale until the one consuming it passed out. They weren’t respectable and he stayed far away from them, as was only wise. Merlin on the other hand spent more time there than serving his king. How could the king prefer such a strange servant over one that did everything he was supposed to do? It was far beyond George’s comprehension.

It all got even stranger when the king summoned him and asked him to take Merlin under his wing, to teach him how to be a good servant. George would not deny that he was honoured indeed. Maybe his services had not been as unwelcome as he had been led to believe. Maybe the king only preferred Merlin because he was familiar and because he had known him for quite some time. Maybe none of this was actually George’s fault. And maybe he could still leave his mark on the royal household, if only he taught this Merlin well. If he did that, his being here would not have been in vain. He had to admit there was a certain allure to the idea.

They started with George’s favourite lesson: polishing. He lectured Merlin about the need to make the one he served look well, because the state of the armour reflected on the one that wore it. If the armour looked well, the one that wore it would be more respected, because he looked so regal. He could see that his pupil was not interested though. Merlin’s attention was wandering and when he reached the part on how to polish, he spoke up. ‘Listen, George, I don’t want to insult you, but I do actually know how to polish armour.’

 _You wouldn’t say so, judging by the state of it_. That was a thought he kept to himself though. ‘The king has instructed me to help you,’ he merely said. ‘I am doing as I am told.’

‘I got that impression,’ Merlin muttered under his breath. George had a feeling he had not been meant to catch that.

They set to polishing. Merlin took on the king’s armour while George demonstrated the various techniques he might find useful. He had a feeling he was wasting his time, though; even the walls paid more attention than Merlin. And all the while he looked like he had never polished one single suit of armour in his entire life. It didn’t surprise him all that much; the king’s armour looked like it hadn’t seen a good polish in ages and ages. What was so absurd was that he apparently got away with it. And for that amount of time as well. How long had he been in the king’s service? Five years?

‘I need to fetch a helmet,’ he said eventually, when he could no longer stand the sight. It was depressing and he felt like a failure all over again. What would the king do when it inevitably became obvious that Merlin was a lost cause, that there was nothing George could teach him? Would he lose his position in the royal household? Some might think that they would be promoted to the king’s manservant when it turned out that the current one couldn’t polish armour to save his life, but not George. He had been the king’s manservant, however briefly, and he had seen that this was not the way things worked here in Camelot. Everything in Camelot was different from the other households he had been in. It was depressing. He had been thinking about leaving, but he was no quitter. That was one of the things he would never do. So he just gritted his teeth, took a helmet from a shelf and walked back to where he had left Merlin.

He never reached the spot. He came close though, but something stopped him dead in his tracks. In fact, he was so shocked by what he saw that it was almost literally the case. This could not be true. He could not be seeing… well, _this_.

At first he was not even certain what _this_ even was. All that he knew was that the suit of armour was hanging in the air, flying in the air, since nobody was actually holding it. And there was the rag, polishing the armour all by itself. Merlin, the one who was supposed to be doing the job that was now doing itself, was seated on the same bench where George had left him, scribbling away on a piece of parchment.

 _Magic_. It took him a few seconds to find the right word. That was what happening here. But magic was outlawed. Merlin was the source of the magic. That was one thing that George was absolutely sure of. There was no one else here and Merlin did not seem to be shocked by the acts of magic taking place not three meters away from him.

George had never seen any magic himself. The households where he had worked had never been the target of any magical attacks. Of course he had known that the castle and the royal family were more of a target, but he had assumed that the servants would remain out of the danger zone. He had never expected to be actually confronted by it, certainly not by the king’s manservant.

Some would have screamed, but George was not the type for screaming. Others would have run to the king and reported the magic. That was something he could have done, but as it was, he wasn’t sure that the king wasn’t already aware of it. After all, everyone here seemed to be doing the exact opposite of what was expected of them. What was it again that Sarah had said that first day? _He’d keel over dead if we did, Elen. We’d best let him work it out for himself. Besides, the boss would have my head if I told him and he’d blab it to the king._ It seemed to suggest that the king didn’t know, but it also suggested that she was aware of what was the matter with Merlin, as did her friend. Who else knew? And why on earth did they act as if it was the most natural thing on earth?

George had thought some days ago that his world had been thoroughly turned upside down. Now he saw the error of his ways. The world hadn’t stopped making sense then, it stopped making sense right this very minute. What a strange place was this, where shabby servants were valued over organised and tidy ones and where magic was accepted by apparently everyone except the king himself? If there was a method to the madness that was Camelot, then he hadn’t figured it out yet. He doubted if he even wanted to figure this out.

So he did the only thing that he felt he could do; he walked out. The fresh air outside cleared his head a bit, but not as much as he wanted, or felt he needed. It was that he wasn’t a quitter, or he’d have been out of here already. As it was, he would at least need some time to clear his head and work out what to do.

He was hardly out or he literally bumped into Sarah the kitchen maid. She gave an indignant yelp, but then saw who it was that had almost walked her off her feet. ‘George!’ She studied his face. ‘You know,’ she concluded. ‘What was it? Did he forget where he was again and performed magic somewhere you could see it?’

For a moment George was too shocked to hear that she actually knew what the matter was – she didn’t need to mention Merlin’s name to make sure he knew of whom she was talking – to form a coherent sentence, but then he found his tongue again. ‘A suit of armour,’ he stammered. ‘It… it was… polishing… _itself_.’ He shook his head, as if by the force of that simple gesture he could rearrange his thoughts in such a manner that they would start to make sense. It didn’t work. ‘You _know_?’

‘Oh, aye, we all know,’ she nodded. ‘Sit down, you look like you’re going to keel over any second now.’

George was not the kind who needed help from a girl. Usually. Today he was only too happy to let Sarah guide him to a low wall and sit him down. He prided himself in knowing how the world functioned, but Camelot had thus far messed up everything he had thought he knew. In fact, he was thoroughly out of his depth.

‘How can you all know, Miss Sarah?’ He may be shocked, but he remembered his manners.

Sarah shrugged. ‘Well, he’s not exactly careful, is he? It’s like he’s asking to be seen. We all know in the kitchen, and the guards are all aware as well. Most of the servants know, too, which comes in pretty handy from time to time.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘We – Elen and I – think that some of the knights know more than they’re letting on, but we’re not entirely sure.’

‘And the king?’ George wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but it was one that needed asking. And what did it matter, really? His world had already been turned inside out.

Sarah shook her head. ‘Nope. He’s still oblivious. Probably for the best, too. I don’t think anyone really wants to find out how he would react to the news. You did not exactly take it well, did you?’ She gave him a pointed look.

George was not really in any position to argue the point. Besides, he was still too busy trying to wrap his head around the strange information he had just received. Apparently it was a fact commonly known around here that Merlin had magic and they all turned a blind eye to it. ‘But why, Miss Sarah?’ That was the logical question to be asked next. ‘Magic is against the law. We should report it.’

Sarah looked at him as if he had just suggested to go on a picnic with a troll. ‘ _Report_ him?’ she echoed. ‘And what would become of Camelot if we did that, eh? The king would probably be dead before the week was out. Who’d stop all the magical monsters and bad sorcerers if he wasn’t around?’

There was a tiny bit of realisation making itself known to George. It was only a tiny bit, though, not enough by far to really grasp the state of things. ‘Do you mean he’s not…’ He searched his brain for an appropriate word. What it came up with sounded rather lame though. ‘Bad?’ He supposed imagination and originality had never really been his strong points, hence the king’s assessment of him being dull.

‘Merlin? Bad?’ Sarah laughed in disbelief. ‘He couldn’t hurt a fly, never mind a human being. No, he’s been keeping the king safe for years. Not that he’s ever got as much as a thank you for his troubles, but that’s life. The knights always get the glory.’

George had trouble finding the right words to voice his next thoughts. ‘But magic is outlawed,’ he stated. ‘It’s against the law. It’s still illegal. Don’t you think the king has a right to know, Miss Sarah? We are here to serve the king, after all.’

Sarah smiled a knowing smile. ‘Well, since you’ve already worked out the truth for yourself, I might as well explain the rest to you. You see, we’re not here to serve the king.’

George was surprised to learn it. ‘We are not?’

‘We’re not,’ Sarah confirmed. ‘We’re here to serve the kingdom, not just the king. True, most of the time those things are quite the same, but not always. And you see, we don’t know what the king would do if he were to actually find out about Merlin’s magic, so we keep quiet about it, because the kingdom really can’t afford to lose him. We’d be overrun within the week by bandits, sorcerers, monsters… Take your pick. So, we actually need him. And therefore we keep quiet. We guard the secret, as it were. You really can’t tell the king, George.’

It was as if she had read his mind. ‘And what if I would? Tell the king, I mean.’ His brain was telling him this was the right thing to do. Magic was outlawed for a reason, and it were kings who made the laws, not the servants. Eventually the decision had to come from the king.

Sarah grimaced. ‘That’d be a shame,’ she said. ‘We had one like that about a year ago. In the guard, very promising, good-looking… ’ She trailed off. ‘Anyway, Allan, the head of the guards, knocked him over the head. To knock some sense into him, he said. The thing is, he now lives in one of the outlying villages, don’t know which one, but he’s still drooling and he can’t even remember his own name, they say.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘You don’t seem like a bad fellow. I’d hate to have to whack you over the head with the ladle.’

For a moment George felt like he was choking on his own tongue, shocked into silence. He had been starting to think he had seen it all. How wrong he had been. It turned out that when it all came down to it, he knew nothing at all. And now he was left with a rather simple choice, or that was what Sarah made it sound like: keep quiet or you’ll end up just like that poor sod who now doesn’t remember his name anymore.

‘You’d do that?’ he asked, hoping against hope that this was merely a joke. He had been told once he had no sense of humour to speak of, so he could just be missing the joke…

No such luck though. ‘Like I said, I’d rather not,’ Sarah replied. ‘I quite like you, but we’re all a little protective of Merlin here, so you’d better not make me choose.’ She stood up. ‘Oh, is that the time? I really must be getting on and so should you, I suppose. Rumour has it you’re supposed to give Merlin lessons in how to be a servant. Sounds like fun.’ She shot him a grin. ‘You should come to the kitchens tonight, give us a full report. We like gossip around here, you know.’

George could only stare. ‘But…’

‘You don’t gossip?’ Sarah asked, disappointed. ‘Shame. You should loosen up a bit, George, or you won’t last long around here. And, like I said, I like you.’

She was gone before George had the chance to think of a reply to that. He had a feeling there was no such thing as an appropriate reply to this anyway. So, what was he to do? Sarah had sounded rather serious and he did value his sanity. He had a lingering suspicion some of it had already been lost. But there wasn’t a lot of choice and so he forced himself to go back to the armoury.

Fortunately the armour was no longer being polished. Instead it was lying on the table, ready for his inspection. Merlin himself was still scribbling away on the scroll.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said when George came in. ‘All done and ready.’ He added a smile that could only be described as dazzling.

‘It is,’ George confirmed, eyeing the armour as if it was going to bite him. Where there any side effects to magic? He didn’t really know and he didn’t have the wish to find out. In fact, he was anxious to change the subject. _Desperate_ to change the subject, so he wouldn’t have to think about magic and strange Camelot customs and servants that seemed to do the ruling without the king’s knowledge or consent. ‘What is that?’ he asked, looking at the parchment in Merlin’s hands.

The smile widened, if that was even possible. ‘Arthur’s speech,’ he announced. He either didn’t notice George’s shock at him addressing the king by his name instead of his title, or he pretended not to see it. ‘To the Guild of Harness Polishers.’ The smile became downright cheeky. ‘I’d say you and I know a lot about polishing, don’t we? And I’d rather think this needs a bit of a polish. May need to be a bit longer. We wouldn’t want to forget anything.’ He looked at George expectantly. ‘So, help me out here? After all, you’re supposed to help me to become a good servant…’

George’s normal reaction would have been to make a run for it, even though he didn’t usually do that. There were exceptions to every rule and Camelot was just too bewildering. But the fact remained that he didn’t run, and he did know a lot about polishing. Besides, he had made it his goal to raise Camelot’s standards, one way or another.

 _You should loosen up a bit, George, or you won’t last long around here_. Running or giving in? It was a difficult choice, but in the end his intention of improving the castle’s standards won out. ‘That is true,’ he said.

 

* * *

 

Two years later he found himself in the kitchens, gossiping with the kitchen maids. ‘You know, that part about me whacking you over the head, that was a joke,’ Sarah informed him as she was for all intents and purposes attacking the dough.

‘Oh,’ George said. Much may have changed, but apparently his sense of humour had not improved. ‘And what about that other man, the one who doesn’t remember his own name?’ He had seen Allan, a big man with a lot of muscle. He wouldn’t put it past him to damage a man that badly. And he knew for certain that the serving staff of Camelot was deadly serious about guarding the secret and serving the kingdom, all in their own unique way.

Sarah casually tossed her hair to the other side. ‘His grave is just outside the city walls,’ she replied.

George didn’t dare to ask if that was a joke as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin believes in payback. Remember that long speech Merlin’s written for Arthur in 4x07? Well, who’s to say he didn’t get some help with that from the best polisher in the kingdom? Thanks to guest reviewer Marc on ff.net for reminding me about the speeches.   
> I hope you enjoyed it. Please review?

**Author's Note:**

> Poor George is a little clueless, isn't he? Don't worry, he will have the ways of Camelot explained to him next chapter.
> 
> I've been meaning to write this little story for quite some time and I suppose it fits in with Guarding the Secret and Kitchen Tales, although this can probably stand alone. The only think you need to know is that the servants practically all know about Merlin and his magic.
> 
> I'll try to put the next chapter up as soon as possible. Please review?


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